


Baby, We Could Be Enough

by alittlewicked



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Endgame Fix-It, I'm still not over the shit Steve pulled at the end of Endgame and this is me coping, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Plants, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Swearing, You're doing amazing sweetie, a lot of swearing because Bucky got feelings, a whole lot of self-care, because plants help are a form of self-care, self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 06:04:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20541314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlewicked/pseuds/alittlewicked
Summary: That damn bench had been irking him since they set up the time machine outside of Tony’s mansion after the funeral. Sitting there all idyllic and lovely, looking out over the lake. All peaceful and shit.So Bucky stalked over there in his murder-strut-glory, grabbed it with his new and shiny vibranium arm, and ripped it out of its bracing. And threw it into the lake as far as he could.Or: A kind of Endgame Fix-It where Bucky takes extensively care of himself after Steve left. You're doing amazing, sweetie.





	Baby, We Could Be Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019, whoop whoop!! 
> 
> Prompts filled: 
> 
> U5: murder strut  
Y1: image - soft!Bucky Barnes
> 
> Sountrack: One Direction - Home. Because Bucky is Steve's home.

He knew it when he’d hugged Steve. Knew that he wouldn’t come back. Back to this time, this world. These friends, this family. This Bucky. 

Actually, that’s not true. He knew as soon as they got caught up on what they’d missed the past five years and how the Avengers – or at least the ones who had been left of them after the snap – had brought them back.

  
Call him paranoid, but that look in Steve’s eyes when they stood there in front of that wretched time machine and that stubborn twist to his lips – damn those lips really, Bucky knew. He knew that being gone for five years had been too long to let Steve stew in his own dumbass thoughts without Bucky to keep him from doing stupid shit. Stupid shit like considering a life without Bucky in it.

  
Five years were too long a time for Steve Goddam Rogers to be left unsupervised by one Bucky Barnes. Last time that happened, the idiot sunk himself like the Titanic.

  
Five years! And Bucky had just been gone. Five years during which he hadn’t even existed. And he had naively thought that nothing could be as bad as being locked in a freezer again and again and again for over 70 years. Goddammit, he never got a break, did he?

  
Bucky’s CV had to be the worst one to ever exist. He could feel a millennial crisis coming on.

> 1945: Fell from a train and straight down a ravine. Should have died but didn’t.  
1945 – 2014: A brief, 70 year long stint as a brainwashed murder machine aka the Winter Soldier. Tacky codename thanks to various stints in cryo. Only saving grace: a damn hot murder strut.  
2015 – 2016: Short sabbatical and self-discovery in Bukarest. Finally some alone time. More murderously strutting around.  
2016 – 2017: Back to cryo. Again. But finally as Bucky Barnes himself.  
2018: Short stint as a farmer and shepherd. Best five minutes of his life. Happy struts.  
2018: Approximately five minutes fighting for his life. Again. But still strutting strong.  
2018 – 2023: Being snapped into non-existence. No murder strut going on.  
2023: Fighting for his life. A-fucking-gain. The murder strut is back.

And now, when finally after a good hundred years, he could potentially catch a breath and stay alive for a bit, do some proper living and enjoying life for once, destiny or whatever still had it out for him.

It could all have been so nice. No more threats for their lives in the foreseeable future, neither international nor intergalactic. No more programming in his brain to force him to go on a murder rampage for some deranged Nazis. 

A cushy fortune of back pay from the army to buy a small property somewhere in Brooklyn. Perhaps sign up for some engineering courses at a community college because you’re never too old to learn something new (at least that’s what Shuri kept telling him before they were snapped). 

And most important of all: Steve by his side, helping him navigate this new century and this new self. 

What he gathered from Shuri’s ramblings in Wakanda, two men could now even get legally married in the state of New York. He may have left out some steps in this daydream, like actually confessing his feelings to Steve and those feelings being reciprocated. 

But for someone who had potentially killed JFK, had been accosted by a talking rabbit for his high-tech Wakandan vibranium arm, and who just hadn’t existed for five fucking years – and wasn’t that a pretty impressive highlight reel, a love declaration should be a piece of cake. 

The part about Steve feeling the same was still up in the air of course. But the man basically committed treason for him and almost had let himself be killed by Bucky’s murder machine-self – that had to mean something. 

Well, or that was just Bucky’s brain having a freezer burn making him force logic onto things where none was. 

But then, Steve Dumbass Rogers was presented the chance to go back in time and down the sepia-filtered aisle with Agent Margaret Fucking Carter. If some red lipstick, skin tight dress, and bouncing curls was really all that was needed to make Steve stupid for you, Bucky could deliver that just as well. Hell, he’d even throw in some nail polish and skimpy panties for the special cherry on top. 

And now he had to suffer through a bout of self-hate for reducing Agent Carter to her appearance. Great, just what he needed. But the knowledge that Steve had jumped at the opportunity to be with her again in the past – a past where Bucky was meanwhile suffering and being experimented on – to live that All-American dream… yeah, that made him bitter. 

Or how would you feel if you had to realize that you were just not good enough for the love of your life? Could never be enough for the one? 

So no, it did not exactly come as a surprise to him when Bruce, Sam, and he were standing there, counting down to zero. And nothing happened. And that was that. Steve remained absent. 

Probably frolicking through the 50es while Bruce panicked, Sam tried to make sense of their circumstances, and Bucky felt his heart break for the umpteenth time since being un-snapped. 

Falling down from that train in Switzerland had not been that mind-numbingly terrorizing in comparison to facing a world where he was basically on his own. Where he knew no one, not even his new self.

*****

**Weeping Fig: Requires watering only ever four to seven days. **

*****

“Hey man, you alright?” Sam stepped closer to him, heartily clapping him on the shoulder. 

Fuck no, he really wasn’t ‘alright’. How could he be with the way things were and the simple fact that the love of his life just up and left him stranded like a man out of time, out of choices? 

Bucky just shrugged. Because he had the strong urge to start yelling and cursing Steve’s ass to hell and back. So opening his mouth seemed like a bad idea given the circumstances. 

“He’ll come back. He’d always come back for you.” The sincerity in those words cut deeper than some of Hydra’s more elaborate torturing techniques ever had. Sam really believed it, believed that Steve would never leave Bucky behind. 

Oh how he wished that he could go back to the time where his belief in Steve was just as unshakeable. Like yesterday. 

Looking over at Sam, he heaved a deep sigh. “Would he though? Would he if he could have a picture-perfect live with the perfect, smart wife in the century he was actually born in?” 

He was too slow to avert his gaze. The realization crashing into the other man, the shock of getting to know another side of the person you admired most, the dawning of what that meant for Sam himself. And then the pity. The pity for poor, old Bucky. 

Bucky, who had been dismantled to the basest parts of his being and put together in the most grotesque way possible.

Bucky, who had had full agency over himself – over his mind, body, and soul – for a handful of weeks during the last 80 years. 

Bucky, who was laser-focused on Steve during the whole Accords debacle, who had been ready to rip out a car seat when he had to watch Steve kiss that blond girl in Berlin (another Carter! Can you believe his luck?! What was it with these Carters stealing kisses meant for Bucky?!). 

Bucky, who had felt himself glowing and turning towards Steve like a plant towards the sun in Wakanda before shit hit the fan. 

Bucky, who had been so conspicuous in his pining for Steve that Sam apparently had caught on to it after a whole five minutes. And was now pitying him. 

And even if social interactions were still a mystery to him by times after all the re-programming and re-learning of societal norms, he was pretty sure about one thing: Bucky could not and would not ever handle pity gracefully. 

Breaking out of the hold that Sam still had on his shoulder, Bucky marched over to the small wooden bench that was sitting quaintly at the lake’s edge. 

That damn bench had been irking him since they set up the time machine outside of Tony’s mansion after the funeral. Sitting there all idyllic and lovely, looking out over the lake. All peaceful and shit. 

So Bucky stalked over there in his murder-strut-glory, grabbed it with his new and shiny vibranium arm, and ripped it out of its bracing. And threw it into the lake as far as he could. 

“FUCK YOU, STEVE! FUCK YOU FOR LEAVING ME ALONE!” 

The shout and loud splashing of the wood hitting the water was oddly satisfying.

Breathing heavily, he watched the last bubbles rise to the surface of the otherwise still water of the lake. He wished he could throw away his sorrows and troubles and feelings just as easily. 

“That’s it, man. You’re coming with me to New York. You can help me clean out five years of dust at my flat and I’ll let you crash there for as long as you need to.” A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him away from the beautiful scenery of the shore. Away from the time machine. Away from his one shot at happiness. 

*

**Aloe Vera: Needs the top two inches of soil to dry between a good soak every week or two. Provides instant medication for scrapes and burns. **

*

“Mr. Winter Soldier Bucky, Sir! Look what we got for you!”

“It’s so cool, bet you’re going to like it!”

Chuckling under his breath, Bucky stepped aside to let the two teenagers storm into his apartment, loudly talking over each other. Like over-eager puppies, they tumbled over each other, shopping bags rustling and mysterious insides clanking.

Shaking his head, he let the door fall shut. It really hadn’t taken much time for Peter and Ned to warm up to him. Two weeks tops, after everything had gone back to as normal as was possible for genetically altered, biomedically engineered, and supernaturally gifted individuals. Hadn’t taken much for those two to practically adopt him, period. Just letting them poke at his arm for a little bit, suffer through their oh-ing and ah-ing over the intricate work that Shuri had done, and they had considered him their new best friend. (As well as a really cool walking and talking Biomedical Engineering Project).

And it’s not like he got a whole lot of those at the moment with Steve being gone.

Following their chatter, Bucky stepped into his den just to do a double-take. How two boys and a handful of carry-alls could make such a mess in such a short time was beyond him. But now his sofa was littered with empty paper bags, his coffee table buried under cachepots of all sizes and colors. And several heavy tomes were stacked up on the massive leather armchair that he adored like he never thought possible about a piece of furniture (but that Sam hated and threatened to throw out the first chance he got).

“Care to explain why it looks like a garden center threw up all over my living room?”

This is how Bucky found his first hobby in the 21st century: by Peter and Ned meddling with his lonely life aka lending him the helping hand he needed.

This would show Steve. He didn’t need the old jerk to lead a varied and fulfilling life.

*

**Peace Lily: Can survive in very dim settings, grows well even under fluorescent lights, and requires watering only once a week. Is able to filter toxins from the air. **

*

So yeah, he had been trying to keep busy this past year. Early morning runs with Sam. Taking care of his rooftop garden and all the plants that had accumulated in his living room. Peter had dubbed those ones #urbanjungle which in turn made Bucky fall down the rabbit hole that was Instagram.

He even debated getting a dog. But even more so, he had spent the last year cultivating a social schedule to fight the ever growing sense of loneliness that Steve’s departure had left within him.

Fuck Steve for that once more.

Therefore, Mondays were for skyping with Shuri and going down to the VA for a group session. Yay to mental health care and socializing in a safe space for people who could at least in part understand what he had gone through.

Tuesdays Peter and Ned came over to terrorize him with their new-found gardening knowledge and what they had dubbed “Millennial 101” where they taught him about the wonders of technology, food, and pop culture since the 2000s. He also had let them convert one of his spare rooms to a small lab – rent-free. With Tony gone, at least one adult had to keep an eye out for their inventions. Wouldn’t want a flesh eating plant wreaking havoc on New York or something.

Wednesday was for Mimosas and avocado on toast with Sam in the morning. He got the hang on what being a hipster meant pretty early on. The afternoon was reserved for one-on-one sessions at the VA. Because mental health was important and if someone knew to appreciate that, then that was him.

Thursdays were Hydra science experiments care day where Wanda and he tackled on everything they had missed out while being imprisoned by Nazis and what the SPAs in their vicinity had to offer. Regaining autonomy one mudpack at a time. In the evenings, they caught up on all the teenage flicks they were deprived of. Uncontested fan favorite was Legally Blonde. Each week, they were liberal on the Cosmopolitans and if they put out a glass for Natasha, too, no one but the two of them needed to know. And if they bawled their eyes out each and every time that Laney and Zack ended up dancing in that fairy lights lit backyard, thinking about their own lovers lost to them, it was only their business.

And over the weekends, he often flew out to Idaho to visit Clint and his family at their farm. He would amp up the millennial all he wanted from Monday to Thursday, but on Fridays his inner farm boy came out strong. Shuri even let him export his goats from Wakanda to Clint’s farm where the other man cared for them as if they were his own. Bucky loved both of them for that so much.

Also, the goats were not all that drew him to Idaho. Clint had a fine ass shooting range in his backyard. And Bucky was nothing but not a competitive fucker and Clint nothing but a worthy opponent. Laura had to drag them in for dinner more times than not. She also taught him more about plants and their care, about all the little inside information neither Peter and Ned nor the internet could teach him. He also adored the quaint family live the Bartons led and how he could be part of it for a few days at least.

Because what he came down to was the fact that this was the life that he had imagined for Steve and himself. A quiet place for the two of them to overcome their PTSD in peace, to regain their sense of self after lives full of war and battles. Raising a couple of kids and Bucky’s goats… Perhaps also a horse or two that Steve could take out for a ride and make a dashing Prince Charming coming to Bucky’s rescue on horseback.

Not that he planned on needing any rescuing ever again. And he was no fairytale princess like… let’s say Snow White… by any means, but after all the cryo sleep he had done over the last century, he’d finally deserve a prince to kiss him awake for real this time and ride off into his own happy ending with. He could see himself galloping on a white mare into the sunset on some remote beach.

And he had definitely been watching too many romance movies with Wanda.

But he would still not be opposed to someone choosing him once and for all.

*

**Lucky Bamboo: Thrives in dim, indirect sunlight. Is kept in water that only needs changing every two to four weeks. **

*

So imagine his displeasure when about a year after Steve fucked off to the 50es or whenever there was knocking on his front door.

No one should be knocking on his front door. The few people that he knew in this new century and that actually cared enough about him to come visit all had their own keys. Or they would just ring up a storm. Or they would just break and enter like Peter did that one time. And if that had not triggered some old reflexes, he didn’t know what would. But holding Spider Man at gun point had never ended well for him so far and at this one remarkable occasion, he had found himself spider-glued to his fridge at 3 am in the morning.

His AK 47 had been shot out of his hands faster than he could look and had ended up stuck up over his dining room table. Peter had been mortified to hell and back. Bucky could be honest in the privacy of his own, reclaimed mind that one of his greatest joys in this day and age was messing with the kid. Therefore, the gun was still stuck on the wall to this day. He called it modern art, Peter a highly diabolical torture method.

The kid was exaggerating. If someone knew about torture, it was Bucky. And an AK 47 webbed up at a high-end apartment in Brooklyn was as hedonist as it got. So, modern art.

But his point was: no one had any business knocking on his door. Especially not on his rare Self-care Sundays when he didn’t fly out to Clint’s farm and instead spent the days marinating in the bathtub, luxuriating in some face masks, and sipping the fancy juice de jour as if mango-pineapple-smoothies were about to go out of style any minute. They probably were. Had they ever even been “in”? Keeping track of hypes would never get easier.

Straw still stuck between his teeth and metal hand wrapped carefully around his juice pitcher, he made his way over to the offending front door. When another knock sounded through the apartment, he growled under his breath.

After tugging at his fluffy bathrobe to ensure all important bits were covered, he wretched open the godforsaken door.

And slammed it shut immediately, praising the pagan gods and Shuri for retaining his Winter Soldier reflexes to this day.

Because otherwise he would have had to look even longer at the offending face of one Steven I-fucked-off-to-Neverland Rogers.

*

**Ficus Bonsai Tree: Requires high sunlight, but can survive an occasional over-or-under watering. **

*

“Buck… Come on, open the door!” The knocking was not stopping. And neither was Steve spewing nonsense about how they needed to talk and how it all was just one big misunderstanding.

Misunderstanding, his ass.

“Pretty sure you fucking off into the sunset to be with your British wifey was loud and clear. Message understood. Copy that.” Bucky barked back.

The nerve of this guy to interrupt his Self-Care Sunday after a year of radio-silence. There was a tub of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream waiting in the freezer for him and Steve. Would. Just. Not. Leave. You know, like he did a year ago.

“That’s not what happened, Buck! I thought it was clear that I would come back!” Oh, that was just great.

Ripping the door open once more, Bucky was right up in Steve’s face. That stupid, handsome face that he has missed every single day. “How should that have been cleared? You did not come back when you should have! You just left me standing there like an idiot, hoping you’d come back to me!”

He was screaming, voice growing hoarse and breaking after just a few words.

Steve was staring at him, beseechingly. Willing him to understand what Bucky could not. His own heartbreak was mirrored in those features he had loved since he was a teenager.

“You left, like there wasn’t enough for you here to make you stay! Like I wasn’t enough!” Choking, Bucky couldn’t hold back his tears any longer. The tears that he had not allowed himself to cry for the last months.

Oh, he had cried. For himself. For Natasha. For his friends and the people he did not know long enough to call them friends. His family. But not for Steve.

And now it was like a dam had broken lose and he was standing there in his bathrobe, hair up in a messy bun, bunny slippers on. Crying for the lost love that had come back to him.

“Bucky, no! You are more than enough, baby, we could be enough!” Reaching up, Steve cradled his face softly, so very softly. Brushing his tears away. Leaning in and kissing them away.

“Until the end of the line, Buck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
